What kind of accent is that? Foreign.

the butchfemme blueprint

Bridie O'Brien

Evening Gordons

the beautiful ghost in my house that gives me terrible nightmares and visions. every day i wake up at 3:33am to the sound of a typewriter and the sounds of gasses escaping from a corpse. i ask for mercy every night and the creak of the typewriter’s return lever sounds like a cruel laugh.

one day she takes a quasi-corporeal form and she begs me to help her. i find her so striking i’m lost for words. she tries to shake me by the shoulders. it feels like a cool kiss of air. i agree to help her without a second thought.

she gives me a list of things to buy from the store. the paper she hands me smells like dust, death, and old blood. should be easy enough. salt. sage. deer blood. ash from a willow tree. old typewriter ink.

when i bring back all the items, i swear she looks more solid. i see the brown and gray in her hair, and her smile at all the items is the most beautiful i’ve ever seen. the blood isnt reaching my brain when she tells me how to orient each item on the old mahogany floors of my home. no— her home. just as she’s about to tell me to repeat after her, i stop. i ask her, “are you single?”

her face twists into confusion. nervously, i continue. “i’ve always wanted to do it with a ghost.”

she rolls her eyes. before i know it, i feel a push that knocks me back to the edge of the room and everything goes black. when i wake up, the house is quiet and still.

she never returns again. i sleep peacefully every night.

she is ,,, my weird girl

(x)

i understand this to have been a prophetic vision about the my chemical polycule

but i am derailing it to say i think lord vexler should obtain new genders